Ch. 86..90: Breed Me, Daddy Alpha chapter 86-90

Favorite Sin 86

~Damon~

The car smelled like her.

Still.

Even with the windows cracked and the engine humming, her scent lingered on the leather like a f*****g

reminder.

My c**k was still sore from how good she sucked my d**k. My palm still tingled from how hard I grabbed her

hair.

The Bluetooth crackled, then connected.

“You’ve got three minutes,” I said, putting the salf on speaker as I adjusted the steering wheel and leaned back into the seat. My voice was clipped, controlled, sharp enough to draw blood. “Say something useful.”

The man on the other end stammered.

Of course he did.

“Alpha Damon–sir–we’ve received word that the Riker Pack’s West Guard has doubled in size overnight. They’re claiming it’s routine, but our scouts believe they’re planning a move–possibly a direct breach across the Redwood Creek line. And that’s not all. There’s-”

“I know what they’re planning,” I snapped, cutting him off. “They’ve been sniffing around my land like mongrels for weeks. Testing us. Testing me. But let me make one thing very clear, and I want you to repeat

this back to the council word for word.”

I paused.

Took a breath.

Let it settle.

Then spoke with deliberate, brutal calm.

“If Riker’s men so much as touch the trees on my side of the line, I will burn every single outpost they own to

ash. I will hang their scout leaders from their watchtowers and send their corpses back across the river tied

to silver stakes. I am not negotiating with dogs. If they want war, I’ll give them extinction.”

Silence.

Then a nervous breath. “Yes, Alpha. Of course. Should I alert the South Ridge pack to reinforce?”

I tilted my head.

“No. The South Ridge pack is made up of pups and merchants. They wouldn’t last a single night against

Riker’s wolves, and I’m not in the habit of sending sheep to do a lion’s job.”

“Yes, Alpha. I–I understand. Then I’ll call the East line-”

“Call no one,” I said coldly. “Not until I say. I want this to be my move, on my time. Let Riker believe I’m distracted. Let him assume I’m getting soft. Then, when he steps out of line, I’ll carve his name into the soil with his own spine.”

The Alpha’s Wrath

Another silence.

A different kind now.

The kind that came when the people under you remembered exactly who the f**k you were.

“Yes, Alpha. I’ll await your signal.”

“Good,” I said. “Stay quiet. Stay sharp. I’ll handle the rest.”

P

The call ended with a quiet beep, and I exhaled through my nose, rolling my shoulders once, trying to shake the heat that was rising in my chest again–not from rage this time. From something else. Something warmer. Something more dangerous.

I turned my head slightly and saw it sitting on the backseat.

Light blue. Soft. Still wrinkled from the way she’d dropped it.

Her sweater.

My jaw ticked.

She must’ve left it when she was squirming across the seat this morning, trying to pull her skirt down and climb off my lap.

I stared at the sweater like it had insulted me.

She walked into that school without it.

Without anything to cover her. No extra layers. No protection. Just her heat–flushed skin, her soft Omega

scent, and that little f*****g skirt that barely covered her ass.

My fingers clenched around the steering wheel, and I felt that shift again–that prickling tension crawling up my spine. Not just annoyance. Not just jealousy. Instinct.

The kind that made my teeth ache.

The kind that made my inner wolf lift his head and growl.

I turned slightly, picked up the sweater, and brought it to my nose.

The second the scent hit me, I froze.

One hand on the steering wheel, the other gripping the soft sleeve of her forgotten sweater, and there it was-

her.

That sweet, sinful Omega scent that clung to everything she touched, everything she wore, everything she

was.

I brought the fabric closer to my nose, and the moment it brushed against me, I inhaled deeply without even meaning to. I needed it. I needed her. And just like that, everything inside me shifted.

“f**k,” I muttered under my breath, eyes closing for half a second. “I can’t believe I’m hard again.“,

I was. Hard as a goddamn brick, Just from the smell of her on this stupid piece of fabric. I’d already had her

this morning.

I ran a hand down my face, tried to get a grip.

“She’s going to freeze in that classroom,” I said aloud, more to myself than anything. “Wearing that damn

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skirt. No jacket. No shame. No clue what she does to people.”

I grabbed the sweater and stepped out of the car, locking the door behind me with one hand as I tossed the sweater over my arm. But the moment my boots hit the pavement, I stopped.

I lifted my head. Sniffed the air.

And there it was.

Her scent.

Stronger than before. Fresher. Raw. Radiating heat and slick and Omega arousal in a way that wasn’t just

lingering–it was blooming. Like a f*****g beacon.

“She’s in heat,” I muttered, chest tightening as the full weight of it hit me. “f**k. She’s in heat. Right here.

Right now.”

I turned toward the school building immediately, my body already moving, already tracking. But something felt off. It wasn’t just the heat in her scent–it was the way it danced with something else. A thread of male

energy. Not mine. Not familiar. Wrong.

The anger started deep in my gut and rose like smoke up my spine.

I tried to mindlink her immediately.

Kitten, I said through the link. Where are you? Can you hear me? Are you okay?

Nothing.

Lyra, I tried again, pushing harder, narrowing my focus, forcing my energy toward her. Talk to me. Now.

Still nothing.

I stopped just outside the front entrance, my hand clenching into a fist around the sleeve of her sweater. No response. No connection. Just a wall of silence where her mind should’ve been. Either she was blocking me, unconscious, or too overwhelmed to hear. None of those options sat well with me.

My legs were already moving before I realized it, storming through the double doors of the school building, eyes scanning every hallway, every corner, every student in uniform who didn’t matter. I was only looking for one thing–her. And the scent trail–gods, it was strong. Too strong. Like she’d been sweating, panting,

pressed up against something.

My eyes narrowed.

No. Not something. Someone.

I followed the scent around the corner, past a row of lockers, then deeper toward a side hallway I didn’t like the look of. Still nothing. No sign of her.

But the scent-

The scent was maddening.

It clung to the walls. It stained the air. And it was fresh. As if she’d just been here. As if she was still here. As

if someone had touched her. Marked her.

I clenched my jaw so tight I heard it crack.

“Where the f**k are you, kitten?” I growled low to myself, ignoring the few students who stepped out of my

The Alpha’s Wrath

way when they saw the look on my face. I was seconds from shifting, from letting the wolf take over and tear through this entire building.

Then I saw him.

The principal.

Standing near the main office, clipboard in hand, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose like he had no

idea he was breathing the same air as my Omega.

I marched straight toward him, ignoring the startled gasp from one of the teachers nearby.

“You,” I said, voice sharp and low. “Where is she?”

He blinked up at me, confused. “I–I’m sorry, who-?”

“My daughter’s best friend,” I snapped, stepping closer. “The Omega. Lyra. She was dropped off here less than thirty minutes ago, and I can’t find her. I need to know where the hell she is, and I need to know now.”

The man straightened slightly, sensing the danger radiating off me.

“I–yes, yes, she was marked present for first period, but-” He looked down at his clipboard, flipping through papers. “I don’t see a current location update from her teacher. Maybe she stepped out to the bathroom or-”

I didn’t wait for him to finish.

She wasn’t in the classroom.

She wasn’t answering my mindlink.

And her scent was thick enough to drive every unmated male in this building insane.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

And if I didn’t find her in the next sixty seconds, someone was going to die for even looking at her the wrong

way.

I passed the main hallway, turned down the narrow side corridor near the storage rooms–cold, unlit, mostly empty during school hours–and that was when I heard it.

A voice.

Male.

Young.

Arrogant.

Laced with so much filth I could taste blood on my tongue before I even saw him.·

“If you slap me one more time,” he growled from the shadows, the words disgusting and full of threat, “I swear to the f*****g Moon Goddess, I do not care who’s claimed you–I will bend you o

you learn how to behave.”

My entire body went still.

nd f**k you until

The hallway stretched in front of me like a tunnel. The air felt like fire in my lungs. I didn’t move, not yet,

The Alpha’s Wrath

because I needed to be sure I heard what I thought I did.

And then–her voice.

Small. Shaky. So soft I almost missed it.

“Please don’t,” she whispered. “I beg you.”

My heart stopped.

My hands curled into fists so tight my knuckles cracked. For a single second, I forgot what century we were in. I forgot where I was. All I saw was red. All I heard was her voice–the desperation, the panic.

I moved.

I didn’t walk. I stormed forward, every step a declaration of violence. The lockers rattled from the force of my movement, my power vibrating through the floor as I turned the final corner–and then I saw him.

I saw him.

Standing too close to her.

Hand on her arm.

Body blocking her exit.

My girl–my Omega–was backed up against the wall, eyes wide with fear, skirt twisted, lips parted like she couldn’t even breathe, and his hand was still on her like he owned something.

Like she didn’t already belong to me.

My voice came out low and cold, rumbling from deep inside my chest like it had claws.

“Boy,”

He turned his head slowly, and the second his eyes met mine, I saw it.

The shift.

The terror.

The realization that whatever fun he thought he was about to have had just come to a violent f*****g end.

I didn’t stop moving.

I didn’t blink.

I didn’t give him a chance to explain.

“Get your hands off her,” I said through clenched teeth, my voice louder now, sharp and thunderous.

“Now!”

Favorite Sin 87

Damon~

The moment I turned the corner and saw him standing over her, I knew I was going to kill him.

He wasn’t touching her anymore, but his body was still angled toward hers like he had some kind of right.

Lyra was backed against the wall, breathing too fast, her skin flushed with heat, her fists clenched at her sides, and the little f**k in front of her still had the audacity to smirk like the predator he thought he was.

I didn’t shout. I didn’t snarl. I spoke clearly, with a voice that could cut through steel.

“Step away from her. Now.”

He turned toward me slowly, like he hadn’t just been caught trying to overpower a heat–drunk Omega.

He looked me up and down, his eyes dragging across my chest, my shoulders, the veins bulging down my forearms from how hard I was holding back the urge to rip out his throat.

And then, with a laugh that was louder than it should’ve been, he spoke.

“Oh, this is rich. You’re him, aren’t you?” His voice was dripping with mockery. “You’re the one f*****g her right? I can smell you”

He glanced back at her, then looked at me again, eyes narrowed.

“I gotta say, she’s a lucky b***h. Her legs look like they were shaking before I even touched her. She must’ve been thinking about you. Or maybe about both of us.”

He chuckled again. Louder. Bolder.

“Yeah. That’s a better idea. Maybe we should f**k her together. I bet she’d love that. You can take her mouth, I’ll take her p***y. Or we can switch. She’s in heat, she won’t know the difference. Hell, she might not even remember it happened.”

Lyra gasped behind him. He didn’t turn. He didn’t even acknowledge her.

“She was already moaning when I walked up to her. Already so wet she was shaking. She looks at people like she’s starving to be touched. I thought you’d trained her better, but damn, man, she’s still acting like a free–use slut in public.”

I still hadn’t moved. I wanted him to keep talking. I wanted to hear every single filthy, arrogant thing that came out of his mouth so I could justify the pain I was about to deliver.

“You must f**k her rough, right?” he asked, still smiling. “You seem like the type to pull her hair and make her cry. She probably thanks you for slapping her. Bet she whimpers every time you zip your pants down. And you know what? I’m not even mad. I just want a turn. I’m not greedy. I don’t even need to be first.”

That was it.

I walked forward, slow and deliberate, every step echoing off the corridor walls like a countdown to his f*****g execution.

He was still smiling.

Until I moved faster than he could blink and slammed him against the lockers with one hand around his

You Dare Touch What’s

throat. The sound of the metal crumpling under his back was beautiful. He gasped, choking, eyes wide with

panic for the first time, but I didn’t loosen my grip.

“You opened your mouth too many times,” I said, my voice cold and steady, not a single word wasted. “You spoke about her like she was a thing. You touched her while she was in heat. You disrespected a bonded Omega and mocked her Alpha. You talked about ******g her while I watched. You suggested we share her like some kind of toy.”

He made a strangled noise and tried to shake his head, but I pushed him harder into the lockers until he

stilled.

“She is not your entertainment,” I continued, still holding him by the throat. “She is not your f*****g experiment. She is mine. My Omega. My heat–drunk, freshly–f****d, scent–soaked, trembling little mate. And

you… You are a piece of s**t who thought that a few inches of height and a teenage d**k made you powerful

enough to speak her name.”

I let go of his throat, just enough to let him cough once.

Then I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him again, this time into the tiled floor, crouching down beside

him so he could see the rage in my face.

“She said no. I know you heard her. She said ‘please don’t.‘ And you kept talking. You thought her fear was flirtation. You thought her heat gave you a right to use her. But what you didn’t know–what you clearly still

don’t understand–is that she was already marked. Already claimed. Already owned. You put your hands on

something that belongs to me, and now I’m going to make you bleed for it.”

He whimpered something, but I didn’t care.

I grabbed him by the jaw and forced his face up to mine.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked, every syllable low and razor–sharp. “I’m Damon Thornvale. Alpha of

Thornvale Ridge. I’ve killed more men than you’ve kissed girls. I’ve broken wolves twice your size and fed

them to my pack. And I don’t forgive disrespect.”

I threw him back against the floor like garbage, stood up, and looked down at him one last time.

I stared down at him.

His body was twitching where I’d thrown him, gasping like he couldn’t decide whether to crawl away or beg

me for his life.

And I didn’t move.

I didn’t flinch.

I just stood there, looming over him/blood humming in my ears.

My voice came low, precise, and full of unshakeable truth.

rates. I

“I should kill you right now,” I said, every word heavy as a stone. “Right here. In this hallway. In front of whoever walks around that corner next. I should take your jaw in my hand and twist until i should make you eat the words you just spoke about her. Make you choke on them. Gag on them. Bleed them

out.”

You Dare Touch What’s Mi

He whimpered, pressing his palm against his chest where I’d slammed him.

I took one step closer, towering over him like the executioner he hadn’t believed was real.

“I should make you an example so brutal that no unmated male in this entire district would ever look at a heat–drunk Omega again without tasting bile. That’s what you deserve. That’s what your kind of filth earns.”

And then–he surfaced.

My wolf.

He didn’t growl. He didn’t whisper.

He spoke.

(Rip his c**k off.)

His voice in my head was full, deep, snarling with hunger.

(Rip it off and feed it to him. Make him gag on it. Make her watch. Let her see what we do to anyone who

touches what belongs to us.)

I clenched my fists. My breath caught fire. My muscles surged under my skin.

“Stop,” I whispered back in my mind, jaw tight, veins bulging. “She’s watching. She doesn’t need to see that.”

(She does. She needs to see. She needs to understand what happens when someone looks at her like prey. We are not soft. We are not merciful. We punish.)

I looked down at the boy again.

His eyes were wide now. He was shaking. He felt it–the shift. The change. The pressure in the air as my form began to rupture beneath my skin.

My voice dropped lower, deeper, more primal.

“I gave you a chance,” I said. “I let you speak. I let you laugh. I let you imagine a world where you could even breathe the same air as her and live. But now you’ve taken something from her. You didn’t mark her skin, but you touched her soul. You scared her. You made her beg. You made her doubt her safety. And for that-”

My neck cracked. My shoulders popped. My eyes burned gold.

“For that, I am going to show you the kind of monster they whisper about in war stories.”

(Shift. Let me out. Let me taste him. We’ll start with his c**k. We’ll tear it from his body and leave him screaming in the dirt. Then we’ll break his hips. His spine. His face. Let him crawl without teeth. Let him live with the memory of what we did to him every time he pisses blood.)

I exhaled hard, my claws half–formed, my voice still human–barely.

“You thought you were big,” I said, stepping over him now. “You thought your voice made you strong. You thought she was just another girl. But you were wrong. She is mine. And I am not a man. Not entirely. Not

anymore.”

I crouched beside him, grabbed his jaw again, and forced him to look at me.

“Do you feel that pressure in the air?” I whispered. “That weight sitting on your chest? That’s death. That’s me, deciding what part of you to rip off first.”

You Dare Touch What’s Mi

(Start with the cock.)

My wolf’s voice was louder now. My bones cracked louder. My teeth lengthened.

(Let her watch. Let her smell his piss. Let her moan while we paint the floor red.)

I growled aloud this time–low and guttural.

And when I looked up, Lyra was still there.

Watching.

Trembling.

Eyes wide, cheeks flushed, thighs pressed together like her heat was rising in sync with my fury.

My voice softened when I saw her–but only slightly.

“Look away if you don’t want to see this,” I said.

Her lips parted. She didn’t move.

She didn’t blink.

She didn’t look away.

So I turned back to the boy, who was now crawling, sobbing, piss pooling beneath his thighs.

My claws extended fully. My spine twisted. My voice dropped into a snarl as my wolf merged with me.

(He touched her. He dies.)

“You cornered her. You threatened her. You made her beg you not to rape her, and then you had the gall to

turn around and look me in the eye and ask if we should f**k her together?”

He started crying then. Actual crying. Ugly, choking sobs that I didn’t give a single f**k about.

I pressed harder.

“You think you’re a man? You think because you’re young and hard and arrogant, that makes you something

special? No. You are weak. You are insignificant. And you are lucky–lucky–that I haven’t ripped your c**k off

already and shoved it down your throat like my wolf keeps demanding.”

The shift pulsed through my spine. My jaw popped. My claws pushed through my fingers as my wolf surged

forward in my mind, not just growling now but speaking.

(Do it. Tear it off. Make him bleed from the root. He used it like a weapon. Take it from him like a traitor loses

his tongue. Let him scream. Let her watch. Let her learn what we do to anyone who touches what’s ours.)

My head dropped forward. I closed my eyes and took a breath, holding the beast back just long enough to

speak clearly again.

“I came here to bring her her sweater,” I said, almost to myself. “She forgot it in the car. She left wearing that

short little skirt and didn’t realize how cold the school hallways would be. I was going to walk in, hand it to

her, and leave.”

I looked down at him again, my voice darkening.

“And instead, I find her pressed against a wall, helpless, burning in heat, with your filthy f** hands on her body and your mouth threatening to violate her.”

(You Dare Touch What’s Mi

He shook his head rapidly. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I didn’t know she was..

“Don’t lie to me.”

Favorite Sin 88

~Damon-

I reached forward and grabbed him by the throat.

“You knew. You smelled it. You followed her scent down that hallway like a dog with his d**k out. You waited until she was alone. You waited until her mind was hazy and her body was weak, and then you pushed her against the wall and told her you didn’t care if she was claimed. You told her you’d bend her over and teach

her how to behave.”

I looked up suddenly and stared past him, locking eyes with Lyra, who hadn’t moved an inch. She was still frozen in place, her breathing shallow, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide. She was watching me with something burning behind her gaze–something wild, something electric.

I turned back to him.

“And when I told you to let her go,” I said slowly, “you turned to me and said we should share her. That we should f**k her together. That she might even thank us for it.”

I leaned in until our foreheads nearly touched.

“You said that to me. While my Omega was still trembling behind you. While she was still trying to catch her breath from saying no.”

His face crumpled, but I didn’t care.

I stood again, letting my full height tower over him, letting my wolf rise through my frame like a tidal wave

about to break. My voice grew colder, clearer, and more violent with every word.

“You touched something sacred. You crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed. And now, I am going to make sure you never forget what that costs.”

I reached down, tore what was left of his pants from his hips, and grabbed him by the inner thigh. He screamed before I even applied pressure.

“Your c**k is the reason you’re in this position,” I said. “So I’m going to make sure you never get to use it

again.”

Lyra’s voice came suddenly, broken and breathless.

“Damon… please…”

I paused.

I didn’t look at her right away.

“Please don’t kill him,” she said, her voice cracking. “Not here. Not like this. He’s not worth it.”

I exhaled slowly through my nose,

My claws twitched at the edge of his thigh, and my wolf howled in my chest.

(She’s ours. He touched her. You promised her safety. You said no one would hurt her again. him. Mark the walls. Show her we are not mercy.)

I looked over at Lyra. Her hands were trembling. Her legs were pressed together. She was breathing like she’d

Blood And Ownership

just run miles, her entire body visibly affected by the heat and the violence in the air. She looked afraid–but

not of me.

And not of what I’d do.

Her eyes were wide, not with panic, but with something darker. Something deeper. It wasn’t horror. It wasn’t disgust. It was hunger. The kind she didn’t yet understand. The kind that made her thighs press together

while she begged for mercy she didn’t really want granted.

She wasn’t scared I would break him.

She was scared she would love watching me do it.

Her scent was proof. It was thicker now, sweeter, burning hotter in the air like the first flame of a wildfire. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Her body was frozen, and her lips were parted, and her pulse was

visible in her neck.

I saw it. I smelled it.

And that was when I turned back to the boy and made my decision.

My voice came out calm. Steady. Final.

“Close your eyes and ears, kitten.”

She blinked at me, dazed.

“What-?”

“Now,” I said, stepping forward until the blood on my hands was once again visible under the light. “You don’t need to witness this. Not like this. Not today. You’ve already seen more than you should have.”

Her lips trembled.

“Damon…”

“I mean it, Lyra. Close your eyes. Block your ears. Bite your knuckles if you have to. I don’t want this part to

live in your memory.”

Her breath caught, but slowly–obediently–she nodded. She turned her back, pressing her palm to her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut. She leaned against the wall like her knees might give out.

And that was when I moved.

I crouched beside him again, grabbed his shirt, and lifted him halfway off the floor until his body dangled awkwardly between my knees. His breathing was ragged, broken. He stank of piss and fear and fresh blood. He wasn’t even resisting anymore. He was done.

But I wasn’t.

My voice dropped to a whisper as I leaned in close to his ear.

“She begged you not to touch her You heard her voice crack. You heard the word ‘please.‘ And you smiled.”

He didn’t respond.

“You told her you didn’t care who claimed her,” I went on. “You said you’d f**k her until she

behave.”

ned how to

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I tightened my grip on his collar.

I leaned in until he could feel the heat of my breath against his cheek.

“You made a mistake.”

He choked. “I’m s–sorry-”

“You’re sorry because you got caught,” I snapped. “Not because you meant a single word of that apology You’re sorry because I’m the one who walked around the corner. You’re sorry because she’s claimed, because she’s mine, and now you’re on the floor choking on your own spit.”

He coughed again. His face was wet. Blood. Tears. Snot. A mess of all of it.

My claws extended fully.

I reached down and gripped the inner seam of what was left of his pants and yanked until he screamed. The

fabric tore straight down the middle. I grabbed him by the base of his c**k and squeezed–not hard enough to

tear it yet, but hard enough that he shrieked like an animal.

“You used this like a threat,” I said. “So I’m going to ruin it.”

He wailed, but I didn’t let go.

“Feel every second,” I growled. “Remember this every time you even think about another Omega.”

That was what I told him before I grabbed his c**k in my hand–not with lust, not with mercy, but with the

precision of a man about to end something permanently.

He screamed beneath me, his voice splitting the hallway as his spine arched off the tile, his heels kicking

against the floor, but I didn’t stop. I pressed my knees into the inside of his thighs and spread him open like an animal being prepared for slaughter. He didn’t deserve modesty. He didn’t deserve dignity. He deserved to

bleed.

He squirmed under me, trying to twist his hips away, but I slammed them flat against the ground with one hand while the other gripped his shriveling little c**k between my fingers. He was already soft, already shrinking in fear, and the smell of his urine mixing with the blood from his broken nose made me sick.

I looked down at it–at him–and laughed.

It wasn’t a polite laugh. It wasn’t amused. It was cold. Loud. Vicious.

“For a big guy,” I said, dragging my gaze from his bloody face to the useless thing between his legs, “you have a very, very small cock.”

His eyes rolled back as he cried out, but I didn’t loosen my grip.

“This,” I said, tightening my fingers around him, “is what you thought you would use to f**k her? This pitiful, twitching little thing? You pressed her against a wall with this disgusting excuse for manhood and thought, for a second, that you had the right to even imagine being inside her?”

He tried to breathe. Tried to speak. But I cut him off by pressing the edge of my claws against his shaft-

lightly at first, just enough to make him freeze.

“You thought she would moan for you?” I asked, lowering my voice into a slow, deliberate “You thought she would beg for this pathetic length? Do you have any idea what she sounds like when she’s actually being touched properly? When I take her apart inch by inch with a c**k that makes her cry before she even takes

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the whole thing?”

He whimpered something–a breathless apology or another attempt at begging–but I ignored it.

I reached down and unzipped my pants slowly, never breaking eye contact with him.

Then I pulled out my own c**k–still thick, still hanging low with the weight of what she’d drained from me that morning—and I let him see it. I wanted him to look. I wanted him to understand exactly what he would

never live up to.

“You opened your mouth,” I said, stroking once just for show. “You looked me in the eye and suggested we take her together. You actually offered to use this pathetic worm while I f****d her mouth. You thought you were making a joke. You thought you were a man.”

I leaned in closer, my face hovering over his, the scent of blood and power pouring off me like steam.

“You’re not a man,” I said. “You’re a f*****g mistake.”

And then I acted.

My claws extended without warning, clean and silent, and I plunged the sharpest one straight through the

root of his c**k.

His scream wasn’t human.

It was a sound made only by things that know they are about to die.

Blood burst from the puncture like a geyser, warm and wet and immediate. It sprayed across my hand, shot up his stomach, spilled down his thighs in thick, dark lines.

He jerked, his back slamming against the floor, his hands flying up to stop me, but I wasn’t done.

I took a second claw and sliced across the shaft–deep and brutal, diagonally, so the skin tore wide open and flapped apart like butchered meat.

He howled. His legs convulsed. Blood poured like a split artery.

I stood up slowly, wiping the crimson from my fingers onto his shirt as he writhed.

“You’ll never f**k again,” I said, voice calm. “You’ll never even piss without pain. And every time you reach between your legs and touch what’s left of yourself, you’ll remember this moment. You’ll remember the Alpha

who took it from you.”

He rolled onto his side, clutching what remained of his c**k, sobbing now. Not crying–sobbing. His face was pale. His mouth hung open. He was shaking so badly he couldn’t even hold himself together.

I bent one last time, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and yanked his face upward to meet mine.

“You used her heat like a weapon,” I said slowly. “You turned her vulnerability into an opportunity to dominate. You ignored her voice. You mocked her no. And then, you had the audacity to invite me to join in. To degrade

her. To watch.”

I dropped his head, and it smacked the tile with a thud.

I stood fully, cracked my neck, and stepped over him like the garbage he was.

And then–I turned to her. ·

Lyra.

Blood And Creechip

Favorite Sin 89

~Damon~

She was standing by the wall exactly where I had left her. Her body was motionless, but her chest was rising and falling fast. Her skin was flushed. Her eyes were huge, dilated, locked on me like I was a god she didn’t know whether to kneel for or run from.

She had watched everything.

And she wasn’t afraid.

She was panting.

She was trembling.

Her thighs were pressed together, and her scent was pouring through the hallway like a wave of heat–drenched sugar and slick.

I walked toward her, my boots leaving bloody prints across the tile, my chest still rising and falling with adrenaline. I didn’t blink. I didn’t rush.

When I stopped in front of her, I was close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body.

She looked up at me like she was on the verge of falling apart.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

I reached out with my bloodied hand and cupped her cheek.

“I told you to close your eyes,” I said softly. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

She nodded once, swallowing hard. “I couldn’t look away.”

I brushed my thumb along the side of her mouth.

“I just mutilated a man.”

“I know.”

“And you’re still standing here.”

“I can’t move.”

“Why?”

Her voice broke.

“Because I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you right now.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to drown in.

I leaned in, pressed my forehead to hers, and whispered against her lips.

“You just watched me destroy someone for touching you.”

The words left my mouth slowly, deliberately, like I wanted her to feel every syllable. I didn’t v didn’t growl. I said them like a statement of fact. Because it was. Because that’s exactly what mad done- and she had watched all of it.

er them. I

I was still standing inches from her, my chest rising and falling, the blood on my knuckles dying into a tighe crust across my skin. My boots were soaked from where i had knelt in his blood, and my hope

down, my c**k heavy behind it, still swollen from rage and the way her scent had exploded into the hallway

like smoke and wildfire

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Her lips were parted, her throat visibly tight as the swallowed, and ther chest was lifting in short, shallow bursts. Her entire body was trembling–not from fear, not from disgust- but from something far more dangerous.

Desire.

She looked at me like I was the monster that made her wet.

I stepped closer and tilted my head slightly, watching the way her eyes ficked to my mouth, then down to the

red smears on my hands.

I reached up slowly, pressed my thumb against her cheek, and dragged a line of blood across her skin–not hard, not rough, just enough to mark her with it.

“Did it turn you on, kitten?” I asked her calmly. My voice was low and steady, but every word throbbed with heat. “Be honest with me. Did watching me mutilate him make your thighs clench? Did it make your heart race? Did it make you wish you were closer while I did it?”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

I smirked and leaned in closer, just enough for my nose to graze her ear, just enough for my breath to tickle

her skin.

“I think it did,” I whispered. “I think you were standing there with your back pressed to the wall, watching me pin him down, listening to the sounds of his c**k splitting under my claws, and your p***y was throbbing for

me.”

She let out the smallest gasp, and my c**k kicked behind my zipper in response.

I didn’t stop.

“I think you got wet when I told him to crawl. I think you liked seeing me hold his life in one hand and his manhood in the other. I think it made you ache when you realized I wasn’t doing it out of rage–I was doing it

because you were mine.”

Still, she didn’t speak.

She just breathed harder.

Her scent was growing thicker now, sweeter, coating the air in something warm and primal. Her legs shifted like she was trying to squeeze them together without me noticing.

Too late.

I slid both hands down to her hips and gripped them firmly.

“You should be horrified right now,” I said, pulling her closer. “You should be pushing me away. But you’re not. You’re standing here like you want more. You’re panting like I didn’t just torture a man–I fed something

inside you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

The Beast Unleashed

I leaned in again, this time brushing my lips across the side of her neck, not kissing, just letting her feel the heat.

“Tell me, kitten. Were you wet while you watched? Were you breathing through your mouth because your panties were soaked, and you were scared I’d smell it?”

“Damon,” she whispered.

“That’s not an answer,” I said. “Say the words. You watched me rip a man apart, and now you’re standing in front of me looking like you want me to do the same to you.”

Her hands grabbed the front of my shirt, and her fingers curled into the fabric.

“Yes,” she said. Her voice was trembling. “Yes, I was wet. Yes, I was shaking because I wanted you.”

I groaned low in my chest, the sound spilling out between clenched teeth.

I pressed her harder against the wall and dropped my forehead to hers.

“Do you want to know what I was thinking while I crushed his c**k in my hand?” I asked her, my voice tighter now, slower, like a threat wrapped in velvet. “I was thinking about the way you moan when I take you from behind. I was thinking about the sounds you make when I bite the back of your neck and tell you not to come until I say so. I was thinking about how your little body fits against mine, how your thighs shake after I’ve been inside you for too long, and how much I want to see you that desperate again.”

She whimpered, and her hips arched forward.

I kept going.

“I was thinking about how easy it would be to take you right here. With blood still on the floor. With the smell

of his piss and your heat choking the walls. I was thinking about lifting your skirt, pushing your panties to the

side, and sinking into you so slowly you’d cry.”

Her breath hitched.

“You’d beg me not to stop,” I said. “And I wouldn’t. Not until your knees gave out. Not until you forgot that

anyone else existed. Not until every part of you remembered who you belong to.”

She nodded frantically.

“Say it, kitten,” I demanded. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” she gasped. “I belong to you.”

I smirked and kissed her jaw, slow and possessive.

“You’re goddamn right you do.”

I slid my hand down between her thighs, pressed my palm against the heat soaking through her panties, and

growled into her neck.

“You’re dripping.”

She moaned.

“I should f**k you against this wall,” I murmured, grinding my palm harder. “I should bend

Over the blood

trail and make you scream into the tile. I should keep you right on the edge, keep you shaking, keep you

begging until the only name you know is mine.”

344

The Beast Unleashed

“Please,” she whispered. “I need you.”

“Do you want it here?” I asked, rubbing her slowly through the fabric. “Right here in this hallway? Or do you want me to drag you to the car and make you ride me until I lose control?”

Her voice broke.

“I don’t care,” she said. “Anywhere. Just take me. Please, Damon.”

She wasn’t just begging for s*x. She was begging for surrender. For ownership. For destruction.

And she wanted me to be the one to give it to her.

I stared down at her, her face flushed with heat, her chest rising and falling like she couldn’t catch her breath. Her thighs were trembling. Her lips were slightly parted, and her scent–f**k, her scent–was coating the air like syrup over fire. Sweet, burning, wild.

I reached for her, cupped her face with one blood–slick hand, and tilted her chin up so she had no choice but

to look at me.

“My naughty little girl,” I said, slow and calm, my voice curling around her like smoke. “You don’t care where I take you. You just want Daddy’s c**k, don’t you?”

She nodded, but that wasn’t enough. Not for me.

“Use your voice,” I said, gripping her jaw now, not hard enough to hurt her–but enough to make her feel it. Say exactly what you want from me.”

Her voice came out in a breathless gasp, so honest it cracked.

“I want your c**k,” she whispered. “I want Daddy’s c**k. I want you to fill me. Please.”

I smiled. Not soft. Not sweet. The kind of smile that only meant one thing–she was mine now.

I leaned in slowly, brushing my lips across her jaw as I whispered into her skin.

“You want me to f**k you with blood still drying on my hands?” I said. “You want to be bent over the same floor where I tore his c**k apart, your panties down, your skirt up, while I fill you so deep your heat doesn’t

know what hit it?”

Her moan was all the answer I needed.

”

I dragged my hand down her body, grabbed her by the hips, and turned her around, pressing her chest to the lockers with both palms flat against the metal.

“Good girl,” I growled, sliding behind her. “Now stay right there and don’t move unless I tell you to.”

Favorite Sin 90

~Damon~

“Good girl. Now stay right there and don’t move.”

My voice dropped lower as I stepped in behind her, the sound of my boots sticking to the blood–smeared floor echoing through the hallway.

Her palms were flat against the cold metal lockers, her breath already coming in shallow gasps. Her skirt was hitched high over her hips, the soft curve of her ass trembling, on display, open for me. Her soaked panties clung to one thigh, already stretched, already ruined.

I reached down, gripped the inside of her knee, and kicked her legs open wider. She gasped, her body jolting forward from the sudden shift in pressure. –

“You’re dripping,” I said as I looked down, watching a slow strand of slick trail from between her thighs to the

floor. “You’re so f*****g ready for this c**k, it’s embarrassing.”

I unzipped my pants and pulled my c**k out–already thick, already hard, already swollen with the kind of need that made me dangerous. I wrapped my hand around the base, stroked once, then pressed the tip

against her soaked folds.

She moaned loud, broken, hungry.

I slapped her ass hard, making her jump.

“Keep your hands on the locker,” I said, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back until she was arched perfectly for me. “You move, and I stop. You take every inch, or you get nothing.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

“That’s what I like to hear,” I growled.

I pushed forward, slow at first, just the head breaching her p***y, watching it spread her open, watching how tight she already was. Her body clenched around me immediately, already sucking me in, already trying to

milk me for everything I had.

“f**k,” I muttered under my breath. “You’re tighter than ever. So hot. So wet. You’re pulsing like you’ve been

waiting for this all damn day.”

She whimpered, her fingers curling into fists against the locker.

I grabbed her hips, held her steady, and slammed the rest of my c**k into her in one brutal thrust.

She screamed.

Her body jolted forward, her breath/shattering in her chest as I bottomed out inside her, thick and deep,

pressing so far in I could feel her cervix kiss the tip of my c**k.

I didn’t give her time to adjust.

I pulled back and thrust into her again–harder.

And again.

And again.

< Submission And Dominan

Loud, wet, skin–slapping thrusts echoed through the hallway, mixed with her moans, my grunts, and the ragged sound of flesh colliding with soaked, needy heat.

“Say it,” I growled between thrusts. “Say what you’re taking.”

“Daddy’s c**k,” she sobbed. “I’m taking Daddy’s cock.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re taking all of it. You’re taking it like a good f*****g girl.”

I slammed into her again, harder this time, my hips crashing into her ass, the sound so loud it made the

metal locker rattle.

Her walls clenched around me–tight, trembling, begging–and I leaned forward, one hand wrapping around

her throat from behind while the other reached between her legs and rubbed her clit in brutal, fast circles.

She screamed again, louder now, her body rocking against mine as her heat exploded.

“Damon–f**k–Daddy–I can’t–I’m gonna-”

“You don’t come until I say,” I snarled into her ear. “You hold it. You f*****g hold it until I decide you deserve it.

She was panting now. Crying. So overwhelmed she couldn’t even keep her legs straight. I bent her forward even more, grabbed both wrists, and pinned them to the locker while I kept pounding into her from behind.

The sound of my c**k sliding in and out of her wet, gripping p***y was filthy. Loud. Drenched.

“You’re going to remember this,” I said through clenched teeth. “You’re going to feel my c*m dripping down your thighs when I take you into the pack house. They’re going to smell what I did to you. They’re going to see it on your skin, in your eyes, in the way you walk. They’re going to look at you and know you were f****d by your Alpha.”

“Yes,” she cried, her voice cracking. “I want that. I want all of it. Please don’t stop–please–please-”

“Shut up and take it,” I snarled. “Take your knot like a good little Luna.”

And then I knotted her.

The base of my c**k swelled and locked inside her, and she screamed–loud, high–pitched, almost feral–as her orgasm tore through her. Her cunt clamped down around me, spasming, milking me. Her body trembled under mine, going limp against the locker as I filled her with wave after wave of thick, hot c*m.

I stayed buried deep inside her, panting, growling, my chest pressed to her back, my hand still wrapped

around her throat as she shook.

Her p***y was fluttering, sucking me deeper with every twitch.

She was a mess.

Sweating. Crying. Moaning.,

Ruined.

And when I finally caught my breath, I leaned in close to her ear and spoke in the calmest, most, possessive tone I had all night.

“I have a meeting with the pack in twenty minutes.”

She didn’t speak. Couldn’t. She was still catching her breath, still pulsing around my knot.

Submission And Dominan

“Why don’t you follow me, kitten?” I whispered. “Let them smell what I did to you. Let them see their Luna dripping down her thighs, still full of her Alpha’s c*m. Let them see you walk in wearing my scent like a crown.”

She shuddered.

And I smiled.

Because now?

Now they would all know.

She was mine.

And she would never walk into a room without them remembering this exact sound–the sound of her heat being f****d out of her

by the only man who would ever own her again.

She was still catching her breath, her cheek pressed against the cold tocker, her hands trembling as my knot

throbbed inside her. My arm was wrapped tight around her waist, holding her up, keeping her steady. Her heat–slicked thighs were soaked in everything I’d poured into her.

But then she blinked.

Just once.

And her voice broke through the silence, soft and breathless and panicked.

“Wait… Damon… is it not too early to meet the pack?”

I didn’t answer yet.

“I mean-” she kept talking, faster now, words tumbling over each other in a desperate rush, “they’ll all be there, right? The Betas, the Elders

I stared at her, my hand still firm around her throat, my c**k still buried inside her, locking us together.

“I don’t want them to see me like this,” she whispered, panicked now. “I don’t want the entire pack whispering about me. I can’t–please–I’m not ready-”

“I’m too young”

“Kitten,” I said, and my voice alone was enough to make her stop mid–ramble. “Listen to me. Right now.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes wide, her lips parted and still trembling. I gripped her jaw and forced her to look

over her shoulder at me.

“I do not care anymore.”

She froze.

“I don’t care who talks. I don’t care what the Betas think. I don’t care what the Elders whisper. I don’t care if Tasha cries or if Camilla packs her bags. I am done hiding. I am done pretending. You are my f*****g mate. I want to let the whole f*****g world know that.

Her eyes watered. Her breath caught. I pressed my lips to her cheek and spoke clearly, cruelly, deliberately.

< Submission And Dominan

“Camilla is human. She is not my mate. She never was. She never will be. She is a contract signed before! ever scented you. She is a name on paper and a ring I should have buried years ago.”

Lyra’s voice cracked.

“But I don’t want to be the reason she-”

“You are not the reason for anything,” I snapped. “You didn’t ask to be mine. You didn’t beg for this bond. The Moon Goddess chose you. My wolf chose you. And my body has already claimed you. Do you hear me? There is nothing to apologize for.”

Her eyes were glassy, her chest heaving. She didn’t interrupt.

“You are coming with me,” I said. “To that pack meeting. With my knot still dripping out of you. With my scent soaked into your skin. With your thighs marked from where I held you down while you begged me not to stop.”

She moaned–low, quiet, full of shame and need.

“And I dare anyone–anyone in that room–to look at you with anything less than respect. I dare any one of those bastards to question who you are. Because if even one of them lays their eyes on you with lust or judgment or anything other than reverence–I will rip their f*****g eyes out.”

Her breath hitched.

“I’ll rip their eyes out,” I repeated, slower this time, “and feed them to the council wolves. And then I’ll make them watch while I f**k you over the meeting table.”

Lyra whimpered, shaking in my arms, still tied to me by the knot pulsing inside her.

“Do you understand me, kitten?”

She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks.

But her voice didn’t shake when she said it.

“Yes, Alpha.”

“That’s a good girl,” I murmured, my voice thick with praise and dominance as I kissed the corner of her mouth. Her body was still trembling from the force of her orgasm, her muscles weak, her thighs coated in slick and seed, her breath uneven and hot against the cold metal locker. She looked up at me with those wide, ruined eyes, her lashes heavy with tears, her lips swollen and glistening.

Then she spoke–quiet, but firm. “Are you just going to leave him there?”

Her voice pulled my attention toward the blood–slick floor behind us. I turned my head and followed her gaze. The boy I had broken–his body crumpled in the corner, unconscious, twisted, and soaked in his own blood.

I smiled slowly.

“Oh, kitten,” I said darkly, my tone low and vicious, “I won’t leave him there.”

I pulled out of her slowly, watching the thick trail of my c*m drip from her ruined p***y down her thighs and onto the floor. Her knees almost gave out from the motion, her body convulsing around the loss of my knot, but I caught her waist with one hand and held her steady.

I fixed my pants just enough to tuck myself away, still hard, still aching, still furious, and walked across the hallway toward the broken bastard who dared touch what belonged to me.

Submission And Dominan

I bent down, grabbed the blood–soaked collar of his shirt, and lifted him like a ragdoll. His body sagged in my grip, barely conscious, twitching and limp as I dragged him across the floor. Blood smeared in long streaks behind us, sticky and dark.

I dragged him out of the narrow hallway and into the main corridor, where the lockers opened up to a wider passage that connected the classrooms, the library, the cafeteria, and the east stairwell. Students were already flooding out of rooms, walking in cliques, chatting, laughing, scrolling on their phones.

And then I dropped the body.

“Listen up. Everyone!”